


Never nothing, never something

by berrysck



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrysck/pseuds/berrysck
Summary: I don't know where she works. Judging for her clothing and her car, she's probably a very well succeeded lawyer, or a politician.Maybe she's a drug dealer.I like this one, and that's the one I go with.I never told her I think she's a drug dealer, but it's not like she would care anyway. She doesn't care. And even though I do, I can't ask her, because she won't tell me.She won't tell me anything.





	Never nothing, never something

**Author's Note:**

> This is an one shot I had in my mind for a while.
> 
> English isn't my first language and I haven't reviewed it, so I apologize for further mistakes. 
> 
> I hope you like it (and, please, let me know if you do).
> 
> xx

* * *

 

 

 

I am alone. Of course I am.  
I have been living like this for a while now, and it's good. I like it.

Do I?

Yes. I do.

I like waking up alone, brushing my teeth alone, doing the dishes alone, eating alone, running alone, making my way to work alone and going to sle...  
Going to sleep alone.

Yup, I do.

  
I have friends, you know. I'm not some kind of social freak afraid of interaction or just too full of myself to do so. I go out with them and we have fun and I swear to God I love them, it's just that I _really_ like being alone.

  
But not tonight. _Definitely_ not tonight.

It's the third time this week and I feel the sweat start making its appearance. The weather is cold and the rain is falling furiously outside, but I'm still feeling like the sun decided to move and live inside of my apartment. All of this because I'm  nervous.

Me, nervous. What a joke.

I can't call it a routine because it's not. Sometimes, it happens four days in a row. Sometimes, two times in a week. Sometimes, once in a month. And it's happening tonight.  
The time is passing slowly, the clock hands not seeming to move. I'm sitting on the sofa with a blanket above me and the TV turned on, and then I realize how much of a teenager I'm looking like, waiting like this. Literally counting the seconds.

By the way, it's 10:35pm.  
She is late.

"No, stop", I tell myself. "She said she would arrive around 10:30pm, not exactly at this time."

Damn, I'm really looking like a teenager.

And then the clock hands finally start moving and they're going fast. And faster. And it's almost midnight when I hear her footsteps. Yeah, I can listen to them because she is wearing heels. And I bet she's also weari...

"Just stop".

I have no make up on since I don't really like it and I don't ever use it unless there's a special occasion - but I applied some perfume a couple hours ago.  
I wonder if I should apply more.  
I wonder if she's going to notice it.

"No, make it casual", my inner voice steps in again. "Make it casual because it is casual and it will never - and I repeat it - never, be something more than this. Ever."

"Shut. Up".

And shut up it does. I'm thankful for this because that's exactly when the doorbell rings. It's funny, actually. She has the keys, she can enter my apartment whenever she wants to, but she doesn't. She never, _ever_ did.

I put the blankets aside and get in my feet, then taking a deep breath I go to the door and open it.

God.  
Is this woman ever going to stop taking my breath away?  
I know the answer.

Her eyes lock on mine and she gives me this small look, as if waiting for permission to...

"Please, come in".  
  
And she comes in.

She is wearing heels - I knew it - and a black skirt. Her blouse has two buttons undone and her bra is also black. Her hair is a little wet because of the rain, which means once again she hasn't parked inside the building. She never, _ever_ does.

"You look...", I start.  
  
"Cold, yes."  
  
"I was going to say beautiful".

She smiles. The smile that makes me want to smile too and then cry and then ask why. Why? Why wouldn't she st...

"Thank you. You look beautiful too".

She's known me for eight months now, and I say she knows me because I don't really know her.  
  
We met at my birthday. My friends planned this little party, and when it was finally over, I headed to another bar, far from that one. Alone.

I was on my second beer when I saw her coming closer and closer until she sat next to me and ordered a Martini. The glass never made it to her mouth though. I was unaware of who she was, but very, very aware of her leg touching mine.

"Hey", I said and I had no idea why.  
  
"Hey", she answered looking like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And she knew. She knew it when one hour later she touched my thigh and whispered "your house", and when she entered my car and drove it because "I had been drinking, and it wasn't safe", and when she laughed "it's okay" after I pointed that what wasn't safe - and with wasn't safe I meant really, really dangerous - was me allowing a stranger to drive me home.  
  
She knew it when the next morning all she did was leaving without saying a word.

No cellphone number. No "goodbye" note.  
_Nothing._

She knew exactly what she was doing when she looked away when I randomly met her again two weeks later at that very same bar and asked her why did she run. She just knew.

She also probably knew it wasn't random at all, not when you go to the same place everyday hoping you're going to bump into a specific person.

"Do you want to take a shower?", I ask her. "Then I can order some pizza since I haven't really thought about dinner. Or I can go to the market and buy stuff so you can make your amazing lasagna while I watch because you know what happened last time."

"You mean the incident when you almost burned the kitchen down? Oh, yes, I remember", she rolled her eyes, playfully. "Yes, dear, pizza is fine. And yes to the shower offer too. I really need this."

"Long day at work?"  
  
"Don't even ask me", she smiles and I'm smiling too just because it seems like the right thing to do.

I don't know where she works. Judging for her clothing and her car, she's probably a very well succeeded lawyer, or a politician.  
  
Maybe she's a drug dealer.

I like this one, and that's the one I go with.  
I never told her I think she's a drug dealer, but it's not like she would care anyway. She doesn't care. And even though I do, I can't ask her, because she won't tell me.

She won't tell me anything.

  
"What flavor do you want?", I ask her while she heads to the bathroom.  
  
"Whatever you choose is good to me", she answers, closing the door.

"Good", I think, and then I order a Pepperoni one.

I look around and for some reason I think it's a great time to drink hot cocoa. She's not going to leave that bathroom for at least twenty minutes, so that gives me plenty of time to make me some, the way I like it: with whipped cream and cinnamon. Once it's done, I sit at the sofa and start watching this TV show I like while I wait for her. Surprisingly she doesn't take long, and thank God she doesn't, because I'm almost crying at my favorite character dying on a plane crash, and I don't want her to see me crying.

I hear the door cracks open and there she is. If she looked beautiful on her clothes, that's absolutely nothing compared to how she looks now. She has a white towel wrapped around her body, and I can see the water droplets falling down her neck. Her skin has this olive tone that makes her look like she's glowing, and sometimes I really think she is. Everything about her seems so dark, so mysterious, and still she manages to glow.

"What are you staring at?", she asks. "See something you like?"  
  
"Maybe", I smile.  
  
"Maybe?", she raises an eyebrow, and before I notice it she's getting closer. I put my hot cocoa aside and feel my own eyebrow raising when she stops in front of me. "And what about now?", she asks, unwrapping the towel.

I make a mental note of never drinking anything when this woman is near me because I'm sure if that hot cocoa was still in my hands I'd drop it.

  
Then she has this look on her face. A look that is the probably the only thing I can say I truly know about her.  
It's a look that speaks louder than a thousand words, and I'm sure if it could be vocalized it'd come off in the form of a moan.

Her body is like art, but more. That's the only way I can describe it.  
If I was in a museum surrounded by the most famous paintings, I'd still look at her.

"I... Yes. I do", I say, and forming coherent sentences seems like the hardest thing to do right now.  
  
"That's what I thought", she gives a mischievous smile. I open my legs giving her space, and my eyes won't leave hers until our faces are only inches apart. Her hands are touching my thighs and it's insane how whenever she does it, it takes me back to the night we met.

"Have I ever mentioned how hot you look when you're dressed like this?"  
  
"Really? It's just a white tank top and boy shorts", I can feel my voice faltering.  
  
"It's not because they're 'just a white thank top and boy shorts'. It's the way it fits you. The way you look so comfy and so... touchable", she whispers, her lips brushing over mine. "You smell so good."

I try to capture her lips but she won't let me. Instead, she moves her lips to my neck. I feel her teeth and then her tongue. She trails a fine line from right above my shoulder to my earlobe and then she bites it.  
  
"Bedroom", she demands, and I obey.

She moves away, allowing me to get up, and it takes everything I have to make my way to the bedroom instead of just taking her right there.  
  
"I'll be there in a second", she says, and I don't question her. I just go and sit on the bed trying to ignore the ache between my legs.

It's been a couple of minutes and I'm looking at the floor when I listen a noise coming from the door. She's there, standing still,  naked, her arms crossed in front of her chest, naked, her head resting on the doorframe.

Naked.

"How long have you been there?", I ask her, confused.  
  
"Since thirty seconds after I told you to come here".  
  
"Why?"

She takes a breath.

"Your eyes are beautiful, do you know that?"  
  
I shake my head, "Yes, I've been told that already".

  
She smiles.

"It's like... a galaxy. You have a whole galaxy inside of your eyes. I wonder if you see things differently", and she sighs. Sometimes she does that. She says things, and I understand them, even though I can't understand why.

"You have beautiful eyes too. I like how... how they kind of change colours when you're with me."  
  
She looks at the window for a second and then looks at me again.  
  
"Lie down".

I do as I'm told.  
  
She walks slowly until she's in front of me, and then she makes her way to the bed, climbing on top of me.

She sits right above me, her naked center in contact with my covered one, and she kisses me. It's passional, and everytime her tongue touches mine a new wave of heat shoots straight to my core. Her hands are on my hair, and she pulls it lightly while her lips move delightfully against mine.  
  
"Take it off", she asks, and I don't know if she's talking about the tank top or the shorts. I feel her right hand moving from my hair to my breast and she cups it, and now I know what she means.  
  
She slowly stops kissing me and I take my top off. I'm wearing a red lace bra, and I think it isn't needed too. She probably thinks the same, because the next think I feel is her hands removing it.

She touches my nipple, caresses it, and kisses me again. It's fierce and I can hear her purring. She's soothing her palms across the flesh of my abdomen and suddenly her nails are digging into it.

She's riding me now and her mouth covers my hardened nipple, sucking and softly biting and sucking again until I can't say anything but "please". And please me she does. Her hands move to my shorts and slowly she starts taking them off.  Once I'm completely naked, she climbs on top of me again. She spreads my legs with her own and when her eyes meet mine, they're darkened with desire.  
  
She takes my hand and slides my finger between her legs, in her most sensitive part. Before I can do anything, she removes it and takes it to her mouth, licking it slowly.   
My eyes go shut, and that's when the doorbell rings.

"Oh shit, the pizza."  
  
"Fuck the pizza", she says.  
  
"But the poor guy will kee..."  
  
"Fuck him", she says.  
  
"They're going to call and..."  
  
"Fuck. Them.", she rolls her eyes and then kisses my breast and starts kissing my stomach. She then moves her mouth to my thigh and she kisses my inner tight and then kisses it again just a little above and then she's almost there when she stops.

"W-why did you stop?", I manage to ask her, finding out that opening my eyes became a very difficult task.

She's looking at me almost predatorily.

"You're... You're delicious".

And I don't know why does she say it before tasting me properly but it doesn't matter because the next thing I feel is her warm breath against my pussy and the tip of her tongue sliding across the entire lenght of it.

She suddenly pressures my clit and all I do is dig my nails on her back. She likes it, I know she does because while she's literally eating me she brings her right hand to her own core. Her tongue sweeps languidly along wet, heated flesh, and all I can do is pull her close. I'm arching my back, and she's covering every inch of my pussy, teasing my entrance, and I gasp when she slips her tongue inside. She has a rhythm -in, out and in again, - and then she brings her hand around, pushing two fingers inside at once.

I'm so, so full, and I know I'm going to come. She feels it too because she stops.  
  
I let out a cry of disappointment and frustration, but it means nothing when she looks at me, and says "I want you to come into my mouth" with the dirtiest expression I've ever witnessed.

She uses just the tip of ther tongue to teases me before covering my sex with her mouth once again, and its when she sucks it while staring at me that I explode into the most delicious orgasm, followed by her own cry of pleasure.

She's smiling when I finally stop shaking, and she licks the way from my pussy to my mouth.

"You're..."  
  
"I know", she murmurs against my lips.

I put my hands in the back of her neck and pull her closer, feeling her clit rubbing against mine. Her hips drag across the top of my thighs and her breasts bounce slightly as her movement become faster. I know she's coming again, but before she does it I turn her around and gaze wildly at her. The phone started ringing and I don't care. I'm still hungry, but I'm hungry for another thing.  
_I'm hungry for her_.

"My turn".

* * *

  
It's past 3am when we're finally done, too tired to keep going. I have my hand around her waist, and I can feel her muscles tense for a brief moment against me before she finally relaxes in my arms. I pull her closer, and it's good.

I'm tired but I don't feel like sleeping and it's all because I don't know when it's going to happen again. Having her like this is heaven, and how can one let go of it?

 

I wonder if her eye colour has changed already since it always gets darker when we have sex, and as if reading my thoughts, she turns around, facing me. We don't say anything and it's not like we need to, because the way we look at each other says it all. It says "please, don't run in the morning" and "I want to know you" and "I can't, I'm sorry" and then "I'm so, so sorry".  She is... pretty. Too pretty. I can't understand how can one be this flawless, but I also can't understand why on Earth I'm sharing my bed with someone I don't even know.  
  
Damn, I wish I knew her.

"What are you thinking?", she whispers, even though there's no reason to whisper.  
  
"I'm thinking about you", I answer honestly.  
  
"What are you thinking about me?", she blinks.

I can't answer her, because she can't know. Not for now. She can't know how I feel and she can't know how it hurts. She can't know that every time she leaves she takes a piece of me with her and she can't know how badly I wish for that piece to come back.  
I need to come up with something else, something that won't make my heart aches, but that's not what happens when I open my mouth and the answer to her question comes in the form of another question.

"Why do you never stay?"

She stares at me and her expression doesn't change, not even a little bit. I don't know how long it takes until she gives me a sad smile and, without a word, turns around again, pulling me closer.

And that's how it is with her.  
Never nothing.  
Never something.

 

* * *

She's asleep, and I know by the way her chest moves. Her hair smell so good, and the rain outside keeps falling. I should be asleep too, but I can't, so I bury my face on her neck and the words simply start to leave my mouth, too quiet for her to hear but too loud for me to listen.

"I wish I could ask you things I don't know. I wish I knew your favorite place and how your childhood was like. I wish I knew If you have siblings and if your parents are good to you or if they're are even alive or if you've ever met them at all. You could talk to me about your work - because right now I really don't think you're a drug dealer - or about college but I don't know if you have ever attended college. I don't know where you live. I don't even know your number. Maybe you're... married and maybe you have children - I mean, I have noticed a scar on your belly - and it's beautiful, just as the scar you have above your lip. I wonder how you got that. I wonder how you ended up here. I wouldn't judge you if you were running from an abusive relationship, you know? I get it. I get that you have your reasons not to tell me things because you're human and humans have their own needs and lives, but I'm a human being too and I feel things. I feel them and I feel them a lot and it kills me that you can't see it. We've been seeing each other for almost a year now, but what's the point when at the end of the day you're just a stranger in my bed, and... and I don't know if I can handle being in love with a stranger."

And there it is. The truth I have been holding to myself for so long. But it doesn't matter, not at all, because this time I knew what to say but she wasn't really there to hear it.

"You're beautiful. I wish you knew how beautiful you are. And you deserve to be loved. I dont know what happened to you, I don't know your story, but I know you're part of mine now. I wish you knew how hard it is to let you go and how hard it is to see you coming back without a word. It fucks me up the idea of you not trusting me. I know that... we have this silent agreement where you come over and we have delicious sex and that's it, but I'm tired of waking up to nothing. I'm tired of knowing your body but now knowing your mind. I want to know you, Regina. I want to know more than just your name".

I can feel the tears running down my face.

"I'm here for you and I hope one day you're going to realize that. I hope one day you're gonna tell me things, even if it's just something as simple as your favorite colour".

I kiss the base of her neck and her hair wipes away my tears.  
I hold onto her and the rain has already stopped when I finally fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

It's 11am when I wake up, and I curse myself for the fact I overslept this much. The first thing I notice is the empty spot by my side. I get up with a small hope that she's going to be in the room watching TV, or maybe in the kitchen making breakfast.  I search for her but she is nowhere to be seen, and my heart still sinks even though I knew she wouldn't be there. I take a deep breath and shake my head, trying to wash away the memories of the previous night.

"Come on, Emma. Stop acting like a teenager who's been dumped. It's casual. It's always been. It will always be. She will always show up when she wants to, leave when she wants to, and you won't get to know anything about her, get used to it."

"Easy for you to say, you're just a brain", I say out loud, trying to get over how ridiculous I sound speaking to myself like that.

I finally decide to just make my goddamn coffee when I notice something under my mug.

It's a small paper with just two words that, in this moment, mean the world to me:

" _It's black_ ".


End file.
